


Sweet Dreams are made of... well, at the moment they seem to be made up of African Dream Root and an Angel in Speedoes, but who's keeping score?

by Harihat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: African Dream Root, Bottom Dean, Dream Sex, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, M/M, Ocean Sex, Oral Sex, Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Sorry Not Sorry, Supernatural Kink Big Bang, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Castiel, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harihat/pseuds/Harihat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#22 Prompt for the SPN Kink Big Bang 2016<br/>Whilst on a hunt, Dean may-or-may-not have "borrowed" some African Dream Root for recreational purposes. Of all the nights for Castiel to drop by his dreams...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams are made of... well, at the moment they seem to be made up of African Dream Root and an Angel in Speedoes, but who's keeping score?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angrysouffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angrysouffle/gifts).



> My SPN Kink Big Bang entry! Dedicated to the wonderful Angry Souffle for her unwavering support and gorgeous artwork xxx
> 
> Possible TW: There's a tiny hint at an unenjoyed/mistake (but consensual) past sexual encounter, it's only one line but please be assured it pertains to drunk and miserable sex that wasn't enjoyable and not any kind of violence.

If anyone had asked, (which really didn’t bear thinking about, as it would have meant somebody _knowing_ in the first place) Dean would have told them that the whole thing had been little more than a fortuitous series of mistakes.

Ignoring the obvious flaw in his excuse that mistakes made by Dean Winchester had never, in the history of the universe, turned out well let _alone_ well enough to be described as ‘fortuitous’, it was sort of true. Parts of it, anyway. Small parts.

It had genuinely started out innocently enough. Sleeving a packet of African Dream Root to avoid getting caught red-handed stealing from the offices of their number one suspect was par for the course on any reconnaissance mission. Plus, without knowing what Dr Ellis was planning to do with the stuff, he couldn’t very well in all good conscience give it _back_. It stood to reason that any quack calling themselves a “Nocturnal Psychotherapist” either knew how the root could be used or was endeavouring to find out and that alone was a good enough reason in Dean’s mind to confiscate and destroy. And if a subsequent murder or two and an afternoon spent setting the good doctor and her associates on fire had distracted him from that second part – well, maybe he could cut himself a bit of slack.

Add into the mix the fact that the fleabag motel they’d somehow ended up in didn’t even have pay per view porn and he was fairly convinced that anyone would have done the same. Most people, anyway.

Or at least, most people in his situation. Which was just him. So… it was more or less justifiable to take matters into his own hands and find his own amusement. Hell, it avoided winding Sam up any further; somehow he imagined that any suggestion of a bar or a drink or something when his brother _finally_ dragged his ass out of the patient records office and showed his face would be met with a firm “No”. Because Sammy was no fun. And kind of still mad at him from earlier. Even despite the fact that he’d only caught fire for a second.

By the time he’d had an hour or two to doze on one of the motel room’s typically disappointing beds, his mind had been well and truly made up. And when his phone beeped to let him know that his brother had turned up something ‘interesting’ and would be gone for a few more hours, it seemed like the universe approved of the idea too.

_And it’s not as if it’s that bad an idea._ Dean’s eyes drifted to the small plastic bag lying conspicuously on the nearest nightstand and he silently cursed. This most probably was a bad idea. Ideas borne out of being frustrated and bored generally were. Especially when the frustration and boredom belonged to Dean Winchester. The devil made work for idle thumbs, after all. Often literally.

The thought, sensible though it was, didn’t actually succeed in dissuading him one little bit. In fact, it only inspired him to get up and put the poky room’s surprisingly modern looking kettle on. The sooner the damn tea was made and drunk, the sooner he could finally get some well-earned R&R, consequences be damned. A dream with a massage and a beach instead of an evisceration or two wasn’t too much to ask, surely? By the time the kettle had begun to whistle, he had more or less successfully convinced himself that it wasn’t. By the time he’d dug a mug out of one of the ramshackle cupboards and dumped the tangle of leaves inside, he was well underway with a mental shopping list of all of the most relaxing unconscious activities he could compile.

A gulp of dream root. Some sweet dreams. What could possibly go awry?

The tea certainly didn’t smell any better than he remembered once he’d dumped a generous amount of boiling water in, but it wasn’t as if refreshment was what he was after. Not that kind, anyway. Just the kind that would help him ease out of some of the particular stresses of hunting without the danger of accidentally picking up a vampire.

Or a werewolf.

Or both.

Again.

In fact, the more Dean thought about it, the more outsourcing sex to his own subconscious was actually a brilliant idea. That, and the fact that he really was bordering on too tired to move.

 The tea brewed, Dean climbed back onto the bed, blew once across the surface of the mug to cool it, then threw caution to the wind and took a long drink.

His eyes slipped shut almost automatically as he grimaced over the sour taste. Forcing himself to take several more gulps he stopped only to shudder and then to safely ensconce the half empty mug on the nightstand among the former contents of his jean pockets when sleep began to hit him in waves. That was more like it. Just lie back and relax.

Relax and listen to the quiet. Listen to the sound of the waves.

Wait. Waves?

Tentatively opening one eye, Dean’s heart leapt to see that the stained magnolia ceiling above him had disappeared. In its place was a clear blue, cloudless sky. Yes, this would be a good dream for sure. A very good dream.

_See_. He mentally chastised himself. _What did you have to worry about?_

As if in response, someone beside him gave a polite cough.

“Mr Winchester?”

An ice cold beer swam straight into his field of vision. _Yes, this was exactly what the doctor ordered._

If the proffered drink looked amazing, it was nothing compared with the girl holding it. Or the equally beautiful but completely different girl beside her. Or in fact the girl beside _her_. Apparently decisiveness was not a quality his brain felt like embracing right then. Grinning, Dean gratefully took his drink, stretched back under his newly appeared grove of palm trees and took in his options. Blonde, brunette or redhead? All three were smiling at him in the knowing sort of way that always had him feeling half-naked when it was anywhere other than in the safety of his own mind. Here, though? Here, he would be calling the shots. Multiple times, if need be.

“So… uh. You girls on duty?”

Baywatch. If his brain knew what it was doing, they would be lifeguards, all three of them. Lifeguards who had to run places. A lot.

The blonde giggled. “On our break. But the boss will be back soon.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. There was a boss lifeguard too? Of course there was – it was his fantasy after all. The best was yet to come. He hoped she’d bring her whistle. Hell, maybe her crew could stick around and join them for a while. It wasn’t as if anyone ever actually needed rescuing on a fantasy beach in the middle of Dean Winchester’s imagination.

“The boss, huh?”

All three of them nodded, clutching their lifesavers and smiling off in the direction of the calm, blue waters.

“What? She out there?”

He hoped she wouldn’t be long. Relaxing beach fantasy or not, he did _not_ need this whole shebang to drag itself out long enough that Sam got back to the motel before he was done. With a long exhale, Dean forced himself to close his eyes and concentrate on the waters. If his ultimate subconscious fantasy was out there, he wanted her. If this root stuff really could provide all his greatest desires, well… whoever was out there wasn’t someone he was willing to put off meeting a moment longer.

A collective sigh from his existing entourage and the sound of footsteps splashing on sand had him tingling with anticipation. This was it. This was the dream sex of his…well… _dreams_ that he’d been hoping for ever since he slid that damned packet into his jeans back at the hospital.

The footsteps came to a halt beside him and he took the opportunity to make himself more comfortable in the warm sand. No doubt dream girls had a crazy amount of stamina. It didn’t matter. He was ready for her, whoever she turned out to be. Purring with satisfaction, he opened his eyes to see his prize.

“ _Hello Dean.”_

He froze.

No.

_Please_ no.

Not now. Not this dream of all dreams. He knew the voice, of course. It was the one he’d listened for every night for damn _weeks_.

Cas hadn’t stopped by for a nocturnal visit in _months_ and this was the moment he chose to stop avoiding him? The moment he decided to deliver some message or tell him about some problem was _now_? When he was finally trying to have a… well… a little harmless fun?

He hardened his features into his best glare and turned his gaze onto the speaker. Dick wouldn’t get away scot free for this. No way. He would damn well pay for his bad timing. Although… his turning up in his swim shorts was providing a fairly convincing distraction. A very convincing distraction.

“What do you want?” he barked out with a lot more conviction than he felt.  With any luck he could still get out of this before the angel put two and two together and came up with exactly what Dean was up to. It wasn’t the first time that Cas had walked in on one of his more _adult_ dreams after all. No reason to notice anything out of the ordinary. Nope. Not a thing.

The man standing over him shook his head, sending a cascade of droplets off his chest and shoulders. Dean suppressed a thrill of amusement that Cas had managed to appear not only in his trunks but _in the damn sea_.

“Safety at sea is important.” The man said at last. Dean blinked.

“What?”

“Safety at sea is important. You shouldn’t go in alone.”

Beside him, the three girls nodded their agreement.

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind the cogs began to turn.

“Thanks…and you are?”

The man turned his puzzled gaze onto Dean. “I’m the head lifeguard here.”

Ready to either laugh or cry and completely unsure as to which, Dean shut his eyes and shook his head. This had to be a joke. Someone had switched up the dream root to make it do… to make it do _something_ because there was a goddamn _angel_ in the middle of his beach fantasy and that was _not_ supposed to happen.

When he opened his eyes again, NotCas was extending him a hand.

When he got out of here… when this was over, he and his subconscious needed to have a good, long talk. Without… y’know… any actual self-reflection or talking or feelings.

“The water’s a good temperature. I think you’ll like it.”

He was _not_ going in the water with that guy. No matter how expectantly the girls were looking at them both. And he wasn’t going to check out the guy who wasn’t Cas in those damn trunks.

If there was one thing Dean Winchester had in spades it was denial. Denial and hopefully just enough willpower to get out of this without completely humiliating himself.

NotCas knelt down beside him to whisper:

“I want you, Dean Winchester.”

Somehow, the protest he’d been so very ready to make mere seconds earlier died in his throat with that. He was hot, hot under his skin and if his mouth got any drier he was going to choke on his words regardless. Screw this. Screw whatever game his subconscious mind wanted to play. If this was supposed to be some kind of a warning or cautionary tale, he wasn’t buying. He swallowed down his nerves and offered his hand to the man beside him.

“Okay.”

He expected to hear giggling from the man’s companions but when he turned his head he realised that they were alone. There was no one watching at all as he linked his fingers through the other man’s and followed him into the waiting sea.

The water was warm, like stepping into a bath and once he’d hastily discarded his clothes on the shore he was glad of it. Nothing to stop him wading out deep and ducking under, away from the watching eyes he could imagine all too well, even as a lifetime of honed instincts confirmed their absence. There was something comforting about being surrounded by something as huge as the ocean. He wondered if maybe it was just hard to feel exposed when you were cocooned in something stretching out as far as the eye could see.

Well, it seemed a pity to waste perfectly good dream root, especially as he’d had to flambé someone for it. He left himself drift – pushing his nerves aside and resolving to make the most of what was surely a once in a lifetime opportunity. When the other man swam out to meet him, he didn’t hesitate before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

If he’d previously doubted that Lifeguard Cas was a gift of his own unconscious mind, at that moment he stopped caring completely.

Whoever this guy was, oh god did he kiss like he meant it.

“Fuck, Cas…”

With the seabed out of reach he had no choice but to hold tightly to the other man as slowly, wonderfully, his world spun out of grasp. Damn it, even in the middle of a dream he wanted Cas to kiss him breathless and this guy _knew_ that. He knew all of that and he was _his_ the whole damn night.

“ _Cas!”_

And woah, okay, maybe he wanted some of that too but how was he supposed to even think straight and remember what he wanted when Cas’s hand was between his thighs, forcing what remained of his breath out in a hurried gasp.

“Tell me what you want.” His lover growled low in his ear. “Say it.”

It frustrated Dean more than he could possibly say that here of all places, inside the privacy of his own head, he still couldn’t quite get the words out.

“You know.” He mumbled at last. “Don’t tease.”

A whimper escaped his lips as Cas’s fingers closed around his half hard cock and stroked upward. The Angel’s free arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer as his attempts to tread water became more and more laboured.

“Here,” his words were softer now, whispered against Dean’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

The statement sent a thrill through him, even as Cas’s talented fingers did their best to steal his attentions. There may have been no real danger from the dream sea but it scarcely mattered when you had your own lifeguard swearing his commitment to keep you safe. Safe and _oh fuck_.

“Cas!”

He felt the scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin just below his jaw and let his head fall back, not caring that only Cas’s hold was keeping him from drifting under. What on earth did that matter now? What did any of it matter?

The hand on his cock moved faster now, sensing the rising heat in his belly; the need he felt rushing through him as Cas stroked him closer and closer and _yes._

“Cas! _Cas!_ Fuck, _Cas!_ ” the words spilled out as he begged, _prayed_ for more.

Strong hands cradled him close, keeping him from slipping under the water’s surface as he shuddered his way through what had to be the most bizarre climax of his life – and given the kinds of scrapes a man gets into in a twenty year hunting career, that was really saying something. His breaths finally slowing, he reached out a hand to trace lazy patterns on the neck of his fantasy lover, drawing letters and words and anything that came to mind.

“Damn it, Cas.” He murmured. “Why can’t things always be this simple, huh?”

The man in his arms simply smiled and tugged him closer into a welcome embrace, still warm amidst the chill of the water. It was only a few moments later, when he was tracing those perfectly still lips with his own, that the fantasy came crashing down around him with one word. One word spoken from about ten feet behind them.

“Dean?”

With that single word, Dean Winchester’s heart sank straight into the depths beneath them.

No. Please no.

Not now.

Anything but now.

But no matter how hard he tried to wish the voice away, he knew there was no escape this time. The voice could only belong to one person. One, horribly real person. Although, not _technically_ a person.

“Cas.”

Dream Cas murmured softly against his jaw, not imagining for a second that Dean’s attention fell anywhere but on him. If only that were true. If only there were nothing and no one else in the world right then but them.

“Dean…I… “

Dean didn’t need to look round to know that Cas, the _real_ Cas was wearing that trademark expression of concerned confusion; that he was tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he could see the answer in Dean’s freakin’ _soul_ if he stared enough. And he was staring. He was staring at Dean as he let some dream manifestation with the face of his angel work magic on his dick because he’d had some bright idea when he’d had a few beers and… and…

“What do you want, Cas?” he managed to growl out at last. He prayed it was some kind of earth shattering emergency. Something that required such immediate attention that they had to leave right this second and _definitely_ didn’t have time to talk about anything else.

Cas hesitated, and Dean knew he was fidgeting. Probably biting his lip too. He couldn’t look. He couldn’t.

“I…you called me.”

“What? No I-”

The realisation hit like a wave of freezing water.

Cas! _Cas!_ Fuck, _Cas!_

Damn it. Of all the stupid things he’d ever done, this one… well in all honesty it didn’t feature in the top fifty but that didn’t mean every fibre of his being wasn’t burning with humiliation as the horrible truth set in.

_Cas’s name on his lips. Gasping it out like a prayer._

Not _like_ a prayer. A prayer.

He’d only gone and beamed his goddamn orgasm face to an angel without thinking. Not just any angel but his best damn friend.

“Though I don’t believe you meant to.”

There was a note in Castiel’s tone that he just couldn’t place. Angry? Hurt? A little bitter? The guy wasn’t the easiest to read at the best of times and as Dean staunchly kept his eyes on the lifeguard, he wilfully blinded himself to clues of body language or expression.

Just that voice. It wasn’t happy.

Hell, what had he expected? There was something pretty skeezy about making a subconscious sex-puppet with your best friend’s face and dragging him to some beach to fuck him six ways from Sunday. However few scruples Dean Winchester had when it came to getting some, even he had to admit that. He braced himself for the tell-tale whoosh of feathers and sudden emptiness he always felt when Castiel left him. He was so certain of it that when the angel spoke again he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Who are you?”

The Lifeguard’s expression was bland friendliness, smiling over at Castiel as if there were no chance whatsoever he’d shortly end up smited into a smoking heap of ashes. It was probably easier, being a dream person, Dean thought. Dream people didn’t have real friends and without real friends, horrible situations like this didn’t happen.

“I’m Dean Winchester’s lover.” He replied. As if to prove it, he took Dean’s face gently between his hands and kissed him firmly. Later, Dean would swear he _felt_ the blast of heat as Castiel’s rage swept over the two of them. Would it hurt if Cas smote a figment of his imagination? He sort of hoped it would – it was more or less was he deserved.

“You’re an abomination.”

Oh. Right.

Well, it wasn’t as if Cas usually minced his words – he would have been amazed if the guy knew what a euphemism even _was_ – but all the same, that hurt. It hurt bad. Dean wanted to argue back; say something, anything at all in his own defence but he couldn’t grasp a single word out of the whirlwind of panic that threatened to engulf him. Not only had Cas walked in on him misappropriating dream root for porny purposes, he now thought that Dean was abhorrent.

“Let go of him.”

Dean dropped his arms as quickly as he could, backing away from the lifeguard as if _he_ were the one shooting him the world’s most venomous death glare. He mumbled something under his breath which wasn’t quite an apology and hoped that whatever punishment he was due would at least be quick.

“Not you. Him.”

Cas’s voice was liquid steel. Enough that Dean gave an involuntary shiver at its bite, despite the warmth of the water. So, it would be Dream Cas after all that went head first into the abyss. It struck him though the waves of relief that it was a horribly unfair way to go about it. The poor guy hadn’t exactly had a choice in the matter – not even a choice over existing or not.

Dean managed not to flinch as Cas, his real Cas this time, rested a hand on his shoulder and spun him around to bring them face to face.

Cas was still in his full trench coat regalia and the offending item billowed out around him as the Angel floated effortlessly in front of him. The effect should have been comical but something about it made Dean’s heart start to pound in his chest.

_Wings._

_Is this what it’s like to fly?_

He’d always hated flying. No, scratch that, he’d always hated being trapped in a soaring metal death trap forty thousand feet above safety and relying on some law of physics he didn’t rightly understand to avoid plummeting to a messy, painful demise. That was the truth of it. He wondered briefly what it was like to have wings of your own. Whether flying would be altogether less nerve wracking if you could trust yourself to bear you up and out of danger at the click of your fingers.

Hey, maybe he’d get the chance to ask the Angel in front of him before he got turned into a pillar of salt or something.

Then again, maybe he’d be way to busy begging for his life if Cas kept looking at him like _that_.

“Look… Cas… buddy… I know this looks bad.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip.

“Stay back, Dean. That isn’t me.”

And just like that, something in Dean broke and he began to laugh out loud. It wasn’t funny: really, it wasn’t. But somehow it was so hysterically ridiculous and he _wasn’t going to die_ and maybe his brain had deprived itself of oxygen or something in the ensuing panic because he was going to laugh and laugh and laugh.

“Dean?”

“I know, okay? I know that’s not you.”

Cas frowned at that and Dean watched the little furrow between his eyes deepen as he tried to make sense of his friend’s words. The heat rose in his own cheeks and he prayed – no wait, didn’t pray (he’d learned that lesson) but _hoped_ against hope that this conversation would end in some resolution that wasn’t him having to explain what the heck was going to one confused Angel.

“Dean? What is going on?”

So much for hoping.

“Cas…I… it’s a dream. Okay? I had a dream?”

The little furrow returned and he pressed onwards, wanting to at least manage to say his piece before he crumpled under the embarrassment or the damned root wore off.

“A vivid dream, sure, but that’s…. look, Cas, we were working this case and I swiped some dream root, okay?”

It took a few moments for his companion to react at all but then, almost imperceptibly, blue eyes widened as the truth began to sink in. Dean was fairly certain that no further explanation would be needed. Whatever worldly experience the Angel may have lacked, he was confident that he would manage to put the pieces of the puzzle together on this one without any trouble.

For a few moments they stayed there, treading water as if it wouldn’t have just been an awful lot easier to drown themselves and avoid any kind of further _talk_ that might be in the offing. Hey, maybe he’d suggest it himself if the awkward silence continued much longer.

“Dean…”

“Yeah?”

There were no further words. Just Castiel, coat still swirling all around him, half swimming and half floating his way further and further into Dean’s personal space. There was nothing for it, Dean realised. He was either going to kill him with some kind of violent holy headbutt or…

_Or._

Later he’d think of it as a leap of faith, but that wasn’t quite it. The moment that Dean Winchester closed his eyes and relaxed under the light touch of Castiel’s fingertips against his jaw was not a leap at all but a fall.  A fall straight down and into the abyss with no turning back.

Cas’s lips were warm against his own and his kiss was soft, softer than Dean had expected and softer than he felt he probably deserved. He wondered briefly if Castiel could tell how much he was shaking. If that was why he was cradling him tight instead of punching his face.

He didn’t realise he’d shed tears until he felt the rough pad of Cas’s thumb wiping them away with a tenderness he _knew_ he didn’t deserve. He was dreaming. He must be dreaming.

“Cas…”

“Hush.”

He hushed, grateful that he wasn’t required to speak another word. He wasn’t sure he could even if he’d wanted to. Instead he leaned into the Angel’s arms and pressed close until he’d exhaled his final shaky sigh and trusted his voice not to waver.

“I suppose I should say I’m sorry.” Cas mused in his ear. He must have felt Dean tense up at those words because he quickly sought to reassure him. “I interrupted your fantasy.”

Dean followed his gaze to where dream Castiel was still bobbing in the water, his arms folded and his death glare fixed firmly on them. An amused grin pulled at the real Cas’s features. “Do you think I should apologise to him as well?”

Dean swallowed. This had to be a dream.

Well, it _was_ a dream, but a _dream_ dream.

Whatever. He knew what he meant.

_Please, please let this be real._

It was too easy, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d thought about kissing Castiel, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t falling into each other so naturally they could have done it a hundred times before. It wasn’t no-big-deal and the very-biggest-deal all at the same time until he just couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t Cas kissing away the new tears that threatened to overwhelm him because he _just couldn’t accept_ what was happening right now.  It wasn’t _this._

“Do you think we should make it up to him?”

That clinched it. This had to be a dream, didn’t it? Castiel, Angel of the Lord, would _not_ be implying that they should… he wouldn’t be offering to…

His train of thought was cut off sharply with another kiss.

“Cas, I…”

A finger pressed to his lips.

“We should continue.”

Screw it. If this was some crazy side effect of overdosing on dream tea or whatever, then Dean was all for it. True, he’d never be able to look the real Castiel in the eye again, but at least he’d have happy dream memories to sort of compensate.

Happy dream memories of Cas’s hand tracing patterns on the inside of his thigh, for instance.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to keep a poker face as those talented fingers worked their way between his legs and higher, not stopping until he gave a shocked gasp and snapped his fingers around Cas’s wrist on instinct.

Concerned eyes met his. “Do you want me to stop?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Dean shook his head.

“I can tell you what he wants.”

Dream Castiel hadn’t spoken a word since his trench coated doppelgänger had crashed their little party, but now he looked eager, ready to spill all sorts of secrets into his new friend’s ear. Dean wondered what on earth kind of secrets he would spill first. After all, any creature formed out of Dean Winchester’s own subconscious wasn’t exactly going to be shy.

Turning his attention back to Dean, the real Castiel smiled and surged forward to trap him in a brief but possessive kiss. Dean didn’t struggle. There was something about the too tight press of Cas’s arms around him that he’d been missing his whole life and it took everything he had not to whimper out loud when his Angel pulled away.

“Tell me.”

He'd seen stranger sights in his life than Castiel and his baywatch reject doppelgänger stand and whisper to each other in the middle of a dreamscape sea before, but this was probably the one he'd have the hardest time ever getting his head around.

The real Cas was smiling now, the threat of a smiting forgotten as he nodded and murmured something back into the lifeguard's ear. Dean felt his stomach clench.

This wasn't really happening, was it? Two Castiels, ready to take some kind of strange and possibly pornographic revenge against Dean Winchester's latest transgressions? It sounded like the world's worst Carver Edlund novel. No, worse, a Becky Rosen fanfiction.

When the two Castiels broke apart and turned to regard him, he had to fight the urge to run. The looks were nothing unfamiliar - he'd seen the same expression before. It was the look of something that wanted to devour him and worse; would probably enjoy it if he put up a bit of a fight first.

 

When the pair each offered him a hand, he accepted both in spite of his brain screaming warning after warning that this was a very bad idea.

Dean wasn't known for avoiding very bad ideas, after all.

His fingers tangled with Cas’s on either side. He met their unspoken questions with a nod.

The walk (or rather, wade) back to the shore seemed to take a hundred years and still not enough time at all for any of this to arrange itself into anything approaching sense in his brain. This was Cas. And Cas? And they were going to... Oh God they were going to...

He was never touching dream root again. Or anything else for that matter. Nothing that could ever be described as recreational was passing his lips from this day forward. Nuh uh, no way.

His legs shook as the three of them emerged onto the beach and he clutched at Lifeguard Cas for support as the world spun.

He expected the man to stay still under his touch or maybe even help him on his way. He didn't expect to be pushed unceremoniously into Cas's waiting arms by the lifeguard who was clearly enjoying all of this far too much.

Clinging to the Angel for dear life, he had no hesitation in accepting the new kiss that his friend pressed against his lips before pulling back to whisper:

"Dean, if this isn't what you want..."

He shook his head violently. "Don't you dare stop now."

The smirk that met his retort assured him that there was very, very little danger of such a thing happening.

"Lie down." Cas nodded sharply to the shadow the palm tree threw across the sand. Dean didn't need telling twice.

He'd complained more than once in his life that sand got in all of the most unusual places but right then he could have drowned in the stuff and wouldn't have cared. Not when there was an angel - his Angel - kneeling down between his legs and gazing up at him with a look in his eyes that he would never, ever forget.

A soft touch against his thigh stirred him from his thoughts and his eyes travelled down to where Cas's fingers traced intricate patterns against his skin. He swallowed, tense with anticipation and the heat that was growing under his skin. The urge to run flitted through his mind. Instead he focused on returning Cas's gaze as blue eyes turned upward to meet his own.

“Hold still.”

Cas's other hand travelled across to grip his other leg, gently manoeuvring them apart. He had more than enough room now - enough room to crowd in close and treat Dean to a frantic, messy kiss that had him wrapping his legs around Cas's hips to pull him closer and closer until only skin separated them.

Cas gave a soft purr against his ear and this time he couldn't help the shiver that ran right through him.

"Cas..."

 

Hands traced the curve of his hip bones and moved upwards to grip his waist. He watched as Cas ducked his head to press slow, almost reverential kisses to the skin of his tummy and lower, following a trail down to where... oh God.

The noise that escaped Dean Winchester's lips as Castiel, angel of the lord, wrapped his tongue around the head of his cock wasn't a word. He wasn't sure it was even human. It only meant one thing - don't you dare stop now.

The touch of a hand against his hip caught his attention and he snapped his eyes up to see the lifeguard kneeling beside him, watching him writhe against the sandbank under Castiel’s ministrations.

The hand stroked lower, working its way into its own cavern as it went, until Dean felt the slick press of a finger against his rim.

He jerked away on instinct before his brain could even catch up and the lifeguard retracted his hand hastily. Between his thighs, Castiel caught his gaze, pausing in act.

“Don’t stop.” He mumbled, reaching a hand to cup the Angel’s jaw. “Just startled me is all.”

Cas understood at once. They both did – the lifeguard backing away as Cas settled himself back into position. A careful hand cupped the back of one calf, lifting it up to rest over a tanned shoulder.

Dean suppressed the shiver that threatened to run right through him at the realisation of just how exposed he was.

Once again the realisation of just what was happening threatened to send him spiralling into panic. Cas, _his_ Cas, was getting ready to open him up and… well, the thought of what would come next made him blush even before he could form the words.

“Dean?”

He returned the Angel’s gaze with what he hoped was a reassuring look and forced himself to smile.

“Do it.”

He force down the hitch in his breath that he knew was coming and focussed on Cas. On his eyes, on his lips, on every bit of him except what felt like his whole damn fist pressing to get inside of him. He forced himself to exhale, trying to force his muscles to relax.

“Dean…I…”

The pressure stopped abruptly. Dean knew without looking that Cas was watching him, trying to gauge his reaction. It should have been a fairly easy one to pick up – the Angel had seen it a hundred times. If the day ever came that he needed a new name, he could do worse that Dean “Self Loathing” Winchester.

“It’s alright.”

“Don’t.” Dean shook his head sharply. “We’re not stopping, okay? I just…need a minute.”

Cas hesitated, but eventually he nodded and sat back on his heels. “Okay.”

Somehow, that little gesture – that tiny reminder that Cas wouldn’t hurt him - made him feel even worse. What the hell did it say about him that even with the person he wanted, even in a damn fantasy world with everything he could ask for, part of him still couldn’t let himself have this.

“Would it help if I…” Cas made an almost lewd gesture which would have been hilarious in any other setting. Dean didn’t laugh.

“No…I… like this is good.”

He blushed fiercely at that, but at the same time some tiny, buried part of him felt a strange surge of pride. No – he wouldn’t change this up to make it easier on himself. Not at the expense of what he really wanted. “I want you.”

Cas’s face broke into a smile at that and it was all that Dean could do not to grab him and kiss him right then and there. Hell, he probably would have if it hadn’t been for the pointed cough from the man watching them.

They both turned to face the lifeguard, who was watching them both with the air of a person on the cusp of a great idea. Somehow, the sight made the knots in Dean’s stomach twist all the tighter. Cas, on the other hand, leant in close to where the other man beckoned and let him whisper something into his ear. The moment he saw the pink tinge start in the Angel’s cheeks, Dean knew he needed to know what had been said.

Cas couldn’t quite meet his eyes when he turned to regard him again, but his expression said everything that Dean needed to know.

“We have an idea to help you relax.”

There was no further explanation, but he scarcely needed one. Not when there were two Castiels right in front of him, suddenly united in the act of removing every scrap of clothing that either possessed. Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. This was fast turning into the best damn dream he’d ever had.

One Cas, _his_ Cas, finished stripping out of his remaining clothes and dropped down onto the sand, opening his arms for the other man. The other waste no time in pouncing on his prey. Dean watched in disbelief as their lips met in a searing kiss and their hands… oh God, their _hands_.

The Lifeguard’s fingers had disappeared between Cas’s thighs and from that angle they could only be… _well fuck._

Clearly, his Cas wasn’t about to ask him to do a damned thing he wasn’t willing to do himself.

Dean bit his lip and reached for the discarded bottle of lube lying discarded in the sand. His cock gave an eager twitch. In front of him, Cas writhed under the ministrations of his companion, trying to adjust to the strange fullness he was experiencing for the first time. The thought made Dean flush with want as he spread his legs and reached for his own entrance.

The burn was still there, sending jolts of electricity up his spine as he eased a finger inside. He could do this though – however much he wanted Cas’s fingers inside him, he needed to do this himself the first time.

_Well,_ his treacherous brain reminded him, _not_ quite _the first time_.

_The first time that counted_ , he told himself fiercely, _the first time with someone you love._

In front of him, Lifeguard Cas pressed a third finger into Cas’s well stuffed hole. Fucking hell, that was hot. Even without the noises the angel was making, it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Wincing at the breach, he worked another finger inside. The sooner he managed this, he told himself, the sooner he had Cas. That was all the motivation he could need.

He didn’t last much longer. One long, drawn out groan from Castiel and the dormant jealousy that had been brewing beneath the surface of his mind suddenly roared into action. _He_ would be the one making Castiel moan from now on. Only him.

“That’s enough.” He snapped at them both, pulling his hand free and sitting up to stare down the Lifeguard. “He’s mine.”

The Lifeguard withdrew, leaving a sweat soaked and debauched Angel behind him. Castiel lay sprawled on the sand in a state of semi-bliss, eyeing Dean through half lidded eyes.

“I’m…uh… I’m ready, Cas.”

Their eyes met in deafening silence, the final question hanging in the air. “How um… how did you…”

For a fleeting moment, Dean swore his could feel the phantom weight of his new lover on top of him, holding him tight. He swallowed hard and focused on finishing him question. “How did you want to do this?”

Cas seemed to consider this for a moment but then he was smiling and beckoning Dean closer until the hunter was within arms’ reach to pull down into a searing kiss.

“You’re in control.” He whispered against Dean’s lips. “Everything we do, it’s your choice.”

He stifled the rush of gratitude he felt into another kiss, fisting his hands fiercely into Cas’s hair.

“Thank you.”

There would be other times, he hoped. Times he could drag Cas into the shower or press him against the kitchen counter and beg him to get rough with him. Those times would come. For now, he needed to take care of them both.

Bracing his hands on Cas’s chest, he moved to straddle his hips with a grin. “How’s this? Does this work for you?”

He loved how Cas didn’t even try to hide his eagerness as he nodded.

“Good.”

_This is it_. He told himself. _Yeah, it’ll hurt, but it’ll be worth it. Just relax. It’s Cas._

Closing his eyes, he gripped Cas’s hard, slick cock in one hand and silently begged his muscles to relax enough to make this work. Slowly, agonisingly, he lowered himself down.

_Fuck_.

Sure, he remembered enough from the back seat of a half-forgotten 4x4 to know that it was going to hurt but knowing it wasn’t exactly the same and feeling it split you open from the inside. He inched lower, trying to remind his body that it wanted this, that it was going to feel _so_ good.

Below him, Cas inhaled sharply. Part of him felt relieved to know he wasn’t the only nervous one.

Slowly, inch by inch, he impaled himself on his lover’s cock. The burn began to fade and part of him sort of missed it until Cas shifted his hips and brushed something inside him and _fuck_ that felt so good. So good that his legs gave out for one crucial moment, slamming him down the rest of the way in one sharp thrust.

Cas’s cry mirrored his own and they clutched at each other as the new sensations threatened to overwhelm them both. Fuck. _Fuck._ But it was okay – the pain was already starting to clear and in its place was the enormity of was they were doing. The stunned realisation that this was _Cas_ inside him, that they were going to fuck and curse and fall asleep exhausted in each other’s arms at the end of it all. He hoped so. Oh God he hoped so.

“Dean? Dean… are you?”

“I’m okay… I’m okay.”

Slowly, almost carefully he began to move, watching his lover’s eyes widen as he took all of him over and over again. The burn was good. No, the burn was _amazing_ , fire and ice and electricity and _need_. He elicited a long groan from Cas with a roll of his hips and purred, proud in the knowledge he could make the other man feel this good.

He kept the rhythm unhurried and his eyes fixed on Cas’s. Cas’s hands drifted up to his hips as though he needed their reassurance – needed some sort of tactile proof that Dean was really there and really his.

“Dean… _Dean…_ ”

The sound of his name like that, so very sinful on the Angel’s lips, had him redouble his efforts – feeling a surge of pride as he watched Cas’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

His thighs burned with the effort, but he was close – _so_ close. Cas’s fingertips pressed bruises into his hips, grounding him in the moment even as he began to see stars.

With every part of him seizing with pleasure, he drove forward, chasing that high. Delicious friction sent fireworks exploding behind his eyes as every nerve in his body came alive for Castiel. The name was on his lips and on his skin and _everywhere_ when he came, blackness creeping at the sides of his vision as he picked up his pace – determined to pull his lover over the edge alongside him.

“Dean… Dean… _yes…_ ”

And with that, he felt his lover’s rush of heat inside him as Cas came with a long groan of his name. He rolled his hips once, twice more and then let himself fall forwards, trusting his Angel to gather him safely against his chest in a tight embrace.

He didn’t know how he managed it with his legs shaking so badly, but somehow he managed to detangle himself from the Angel and collapse in a heap by his side. It seemed unfair somehow that the overwhelming burn in his thighs felt so very real – apparently increased stamina wasn’t a perk of the dream world after all.

A few feet away he could see Cas’s relaxed form, still stretched out where he’d left him If the exertion had worn him out, he gave no outward sign of it. Hell, the guy wasn't even breathing hard, even though Dean Winchester was certain his own heart was going to hammer out of his chest if he didn't get some air in his lungs and soon.

It struck him that the Angel didn't really need to breathe but it still hardly seemed fair. He'd prided himself, if just for a moment, on giving the guy what sounded like a pretty fantastic orgasm - it was the least he could do to come across a little debauched.

But despite the glorious sex hair that made him smile to behold, there was no outward sign that Cas was still anything other than perfectly content. He raked his eyes over his new lover's perfect form and shivered in anticipation for what would come next. Because something would, wouldn't it? This couldn't be a one night stand. Not for them. They were different, weren't they?

Cold fear clawed at Dean's throat as the thoughts bubbled, unbidden to the surface of his mind. This had been special to Cas too, right? The start of something good? Of something they could embark on together?

Cas hadn't exactly gone in for relationships in the time he'd known him but he'd felt... something between them, he was almost sure of it.

Unless it really was nothing more than friendship. Friendship with a curious Angel who didn't know enough about humanity to realise what the consequences of dragging your best friend into bed might be.

If this turned out to be nothing more than an interesting diversion for Cas, Dean thought he might scream and scream and never stop.

"Cas?"

Castiel’s only response was to glance pointedly at the stretch of unmarred sand at his side, just the perfect size for another human being if they didn’t care much for personal space. Dean swallowed hard and averted his eyes. It wouldn’t be wise to look into his friend’s eyes right then. Or worse, the promise of his warm, inviting embrace.

He’d never been one for cuddling. It was harder to tear yourself away from someone’s sleeping arms if they had a vice grip around you, after all. But if he could have pulled the angel back to his own bed right then he knew he’d never have let him leave it again.

“Cas, I… look, there’s something I have to say.”

His gaze dropped down to Cas’s relaxed form, lazing against the sandy bank as if there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. It occurred to him briefly that the Lifeguard had long since disappeared. Perhaps that was him finally being honest with himself – there was only one person he really wanted.

“I’ve wanted that for so long. I… you get that, don’t you?”

The rush of gratitude he felt when he watched the Angel’s tentative nod and slow smile was enough to make him want to spill his guts for real. To say all of those stupid things that he didn’t even know how to say anyway so there wasn’t any point.  “I always want you, Cas.”

And with that, he dropped his head to Cas’s chest and let the last shreds of willpower fade away. He couldn’t give this up, he couldn’t. He didn’t dare to hope that he’d ever find the words to repeat what he’d told the Angel in his dream; certainly not in the waking world and certainly not with the way things had been between them lately. This was it, his one chance to see everything play out _right_.

If this was all still a dream, he was so very, very screwed.

The sound of the waves had long since faded into nothing as his dreaming concentration lapsed. The root must have been wearing off at last but _damn_ was Dean glad he had a little more stashed in his jacket back at the bunker. Around them, the beach tailed off into empty space but he couldn’t bring himself to care whilst his Angel was curled up around him and almost _glowing_ with contentment. His own reluctance echoed back at him when Cas finally stirred into wakefulness and whispered soft words against his skin as if in prayer: “We shouldn’t dwell here much longer. I could meet you back in the waking world, perhaps?”

A fierce tightening of his grip and a sleepy mumble of “ _No_.” was all he could muster by way of response. Moving from those warm arms felt just about impossible and he wasn’t sure why he would even contemplate giving up his lover’s gentle hold in the first place. Through the stillness of their imagined surroundings he felt rather than heard Cas’s happy sigh reverberate against him as he turned to bury his face in the Angel’s chest, purring softly as deft fingers threaded their way through his hair.

“It won’t take long, Dean. You might not even note my absence.”

Safe in the knowledge that he was still dreaming and that no one would ever bear witness, Dean scooted closer, tangling his legs between his lover’s. “Impossible.”

A soft kiss ghosted his forehead and he closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for Cas’s departure. For his own, cold bed and for however long it took for the Angel to find him and join him.

“Dean?”

“Get it over with, will you?”

Somehow, he knew Cas was smiling and he felt a flicker of annoyance that his new lover found Dean’s discomfort so very amusing.

“It’s done.”

Reluctantly, Dean tried to force his eyes open to ensure that he wasn’t going to be tricked or worse; still dreaming and about to wake up all alone. He tried to ignore the frantic scrabbling feeling inside his chest as he forced himself to sit up and see for certain – see whether all of this was real or if his subconscious had taken its revenge in the most horrendous way possible. _Please let me be awake_ he almost prayed to anyone who would listen _please._

“Dean?”

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to open his eyes and prepare for the worst. When he finally did dare to look he couldn’t hold back the almost hysterical laugh of relief that escaped him.

It didn’t matter that Cas was lying there looking rumpled and not quite awake, squinting up at him with the most amusing expression of half-annoyance and half-bewilderment that Dean had ever seen. Right then, he was the most beautiful and welcome sight Dean could have wished for. He was there. There in Dean’s real, crappy motel bed, there where he couldn’t be wiped away by the end of a dream: really, truly, _there_.

“ _Dean_ … ”

Whether he was about to ask what was so funny or simply to protest the loss of Dean’s warm body against his own, Dean never found out. Before the Angel could form the words, he surged forward to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. If Cas was startled at first it didn’t show - he responded with fervour until they both broke apart, gasping.

“I thought…” he mumbled into Dean’s shoulder, voice hitching as the other man proceeded to trail teasing kisses along his collarbone, “that you wanted to sleep.”

The grin on his lover’s face as he looked up was positively sinful. “Turns out I’m not tired any more.”

The challenge hung in the air for a few seconds before a flicker of realisation darted across his lover’s features and an equally wicked smile met his own.

“I can help with that.”

 

__


End file.
